Every Moment
by SilverKit'sFire
Summary: It's been 6 months since SD fell and Buffy has to deal with money problems, 1000  new Slayers, plus the dreams. Then a strange girl shows up claiming that Spike is still alive, but does he even want to see her? And what about her? How does she feel? B/S
1. Prologue

disclaimer: Joss Whedon made the park, i'm just playing in it.

A/N: okay, so i'm starting a new story. maybe, anyway. if there seems to be interest i'll keep posting. just be forewarned that i'm already working on two other stories and tend to be slow and sporadic about updating (i'm soooorryyyyyy!). however, if i decide to go with this, i won't abandon it. so, read what i've got (just the prologue and first chap, i think), if you're interested in reading more let me know and i'll keep going.

Cheers,

SilverKit

* * *

><p><strong>Every Moment<strong>

* * *

><p>Prologue<p>

* * *

><p>Warm. Warmth. Like sunshine.<p>

_You glow._

Sunshine? Sunlight. Heat. So hot. Just feel it.

_Go. Get out of here!_

So hot. Hot like sunlight. Like fire.

_I love you._

Hands. Flame. Fire. Beautiful.

_No you don't._

Burn; burning. Powerful. So hot.

_Get out of here._

Glowing. Flames. Consuming. Burning up. Have to do this.

_I love you._

_No, you don't._

So hot. Burning. Burning. Alone.

_I love you…_

_. . ._

. . . . . .

. . .

Warm. Floating. Formless, bodiless. Timeless. Warm.

Is this death?

Sightless, soundless. Can feel it though; world's there, vast, encompassing, and growing. Expanding.

Stars. Planets. Galaxies. Universes. So much. Doesn't mean anything now.

_I love you._

Doesn't mean anything.

_I love you._

Doesn't. . . .

_I love you._

Falling.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

Dark. Cold. What—?

Sounds. Wind. Coldness — felt it. Is this still death?

Voices. Muted, senseless. Familiar?

Pain. Searing, burning. No! No, it was over!

Screaming. No sound, no voice, only pain. Is this hell then?

A voice. Words. Familiar.

"Oh, honey! You have been royally fried."

Oh. Not hell then.


	2. Without

disclaimer: Joss Whedon made the park, i'm just playing in it.

* * *

><p><strong>Every Moment<strong>

* * *

><p>Without<p>

* * *

><p>"This is completely stupid, you know. The Council must have had resources galore before they got all blown up and stuff."<p>

"Well, yes of course they did, but —"

"Then why can't we use them now? I mean, I doubt that the Council is going to miss them, re: blown up and all."

Rupert Giles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then regarded his Slayer. Well, formerly his, anyway. She hadn't really been _his_ Slayer for a while now. Buffy stared back at him, hazel green eyes frank and impatient. It wasn't like he didn't understand. That wasn't the problem. He did understand. He understood perfectly, that _was_ the problem.

"Look, Buffy," he said, trying to reason with her, "I understand that you're frustrated, but it's all a bit complicated I'm afraid. There are legal documents that have to be dealt with, almost all of which only sort of exist and many of which also got blown up. Plus —"

"'Only sort of exist'?" the young woman repeated, looking thrown. "They had magical, ghostly legal documents or something?"

"What?" said Giles, thrown himself for a moment, then, "Ah, no. No, I meant that they are very vague. The Council was supposed to be a secret after all. Most of its funding was gained either through the fortunes of the watchers' families or else was done very carefully and mostly under the table. It's not like there's just one large bank account that we can assume control of, and, even if there was, it still wouldn't be that easy."

"Why not?" Buffy demanded. She looked irritated. Giles couldn't exactly blame her; since they had released the power of the Slayers into the world six months ago they now had over a thousand Slayers in the world, most of whom had no idea what had happened to them, or what a vampire was, and all of whom were in dire need of help and training. But a training facility for even just the fraction of the girls they had managed to round up so far was going to be expensive in the extreme. Access to the Council's funds would have made things a lot easier for them.

"Because I don't think the Council ever considered the possibility that there might come a time when they weren't around," he told her, unable to keep the slight note of bitterness out of his own voice.

"Ehn," Buffy conceded with a kind of facial shrug, "They always were pretty full of themselves."

"Yes, yes they were," said Giles quietly. His own feelings on the Council and its untimely demise via explosion were mixed at best. He was a Watcher. The Council was where he had started, what he had relied upon for years. Then she had come along and all the rules had changed — well, they always did when she was around. Mostly Giles thought it was a good thing, but sometimes he seriously missed the order the Council had provided, not mention the stability. On the other hand, his more recent history with them had been less than pleasant and he was glad to have gotten them out of his hair and, more importantly, out of Buffy's. Still, though, he wished that they hadn't been blown up. Or at least that their library hadn't been.

"Well," said Buffy finally, "we'll keep working on it. There's got to be some way. Get An—" she stopped, swallowed, then continued quickly, "get _someone_ to help you. Didn't Angel have a friend who was a lawyer or something once? Or Kennedy's family might know someone. They're pretty big with the money-having."

"Yes, yes, good thinking," said Giles quickly, forcing his thoughts away from the woman who had once been so good with all things financial. "And you? What will you do?"

Buffy shrugged. "What I always do. Patrol."

She turned and headed for the door.

"Buffy, wait a —" he called after her, but she didn't even look back.

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

Buffy Summers patrolled. It was, after all, what she did; what a Slayer did. What the Slayer had always done. Except now she wasn't the only one anymore. Now she was expected to organize. To lead. To teach, train, and mentor. And she did. She taught, she trained, she took them out patrolling with her. Sometimes she even enjoyed it. But sometimes she just wanted to be alone. To just have a good, clean fight without having to worry about five or so potentials.

It was sad, really, when you were at your happiest alone and killing things. Even if they were evil things. But that was how it had been since — since everything.

She couldn't believe she'd almost slipped and said Anya's name. She knew she was dead; she'd had six months to get used to it. It wasn't like she didn't know. She just wasn't used to it, was all. Wasn't used to any of it. Couldn't get used to the fact that she would never even see —

God, but she actually _missed _Anya. It was a strange thought; if someone had asked her, before the big fight, if she would have missed the annoyingly and persistently straightforward woman, she would have laughed and told them no way. But she'd have been wrong. She'd been so wrong.

Slaying helped. Some, anyway. It was something to do. Keep busy; keep her mind off of things. Of course, you needed something to fight on order for it to work. The last few nights had been pretty slow. Buffy was starting to think that maybe they needed to move again; the English countryside just wasn't evil enough. With a sigh, Buffy turned her feet towards town. It wasn't much, even Sunnydale had been bigger, but it had people and some kind of nightlife, so there was hope for some vamp action yet.

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

The pub in the little town near where the gang was currently set up was not quite like The Bronze. Well, nothing was really quite like The Bronze, what with the whole general acceptance and even expectation of seriously weird stuff happening thing, but still. It was called The Flying Bedstead for some reason and, while there was no official dance floor, there was always a band playing something and the food wasn't too bad. Really it wasn't a bad place to hang, Willow reflected as she sipped her drink, it was just that this wasn't really what she'd wanted to be doing tonight. But Kennedy was busy with the potentials and Buffy hadn't wanted company on her patrol so when Xander and Dawn had asked her if she wanted to come out with them it hadn't been like she had anything better to do.

She was a little worried about Xander; he had taken Anya's death . . . . odd, really; torn between his pride at how the vengeance demon turned human had grown and changed and gone down fighting for what was good and right, and a terrible sadness at losing her that had startled perhaps everyone but Willow, who had known better than to think that her best friend had ever for a second stopped loving Anya, whatever else might have happened between them. Still, he seemed to be doing better. He'd been spending a lot of time helping Buffy and Giles try to reorganize the whole Slayer system. He'd also put his carpentry skills to use building their makeshift training facilities. And now he was out clubbing — or pubbing, really — with her and Dawnie. He was even dancing with Vi and some of the senior Slayers-in-training, a few of whom had tagged along. The little town wasn't really ideal for training en masse; things were slow compared to the Hellmouth, you really couldn't have more than one or two groups out at a time. And the newbie Slayers just kept popping up, and Buffy . . .

Buffy was different. Willow was honestly starting to worry far more about her than about Xander. Because while Xander at least seemed to be making progress in a forwardly direction, Buffy seemed to be going more sort of backwards. Oh, she seemed all right at first, smiling, laughing, joking around and all, but now . . . It was like the more time that passed, the more she withdrew into herself. On an emotional level, at any rate. Willow supposed she should be grateful that Buffy was still here and not taking off and vanishing like she had after she'd had to kill Angel, but . . . .

"Someone spit in your drink, poppet?"

Willow blinked and looked round to find a girl about her own age staring back at her. Her dirty blonde hair was twisted back in a clip — though it must have been fairly long since it still fell down to just above her shoulders — and a smile tugged at the corners of her slightly off-center mouth.

"What?" said Willow blankly. The girl laughed.

"You were making a face," she explained, grinning and dropping down in the seat next to Willow. "I was wondering what the world did to make you make it."

"Oh," said Willow. "Oh, then, then no, no drink spitting in, it's not — I was just thinking about a friend of mine."

"Ah," said the girl, nodding. "You're worried about her."

Willow frowned. "How did —"

"I know that look. Trust me, I have so been there."

Willow snorted before she could stop herself.

"What?" the girl protested, "You think you're the only one who can worry about a friend?"

"What? No," said Willow quickly. "No, not at all. It's just we've — there's — I mean, it's just that some pretty weird stuff has happened, y'know? So I'm just not sure it's the same, is all."

Green-blue eyes danced with amusement.

"I dunno, Wicca," she said, raising a hand to eye-level. "I've seen some pretty weird stuff myself."

Willow stared; magic shimmered at the girl's fingertips, silvery but shot through with several other colors that flickered, giving it an almost iridescent quality.

The girl smirked at her reaction. "Try me," she challenged. "I bet I can top or at least match any story you got."

"You! You're a witch?" Willow exclaimed excitedly. She hadn't met another magic-user since they had left the states. "You, you do the magics!"

The girl pulled a face at the word 'witch.'

"Not the term I prefer," she said shrugging, "but, yes, I do the magics. Name's Kit, by the way."

"Willow," Willow said, shaking Kit's proffered hand. "I — you —" she floundered for a moment, not sure which question to ask first, then settled on, "Kit? That's kinda unusual. Is that short for something?"

"Er, does it have to be?" asked Kit.

Willow grinned; Kit's expression was the same as whenever anyone asked about Xander's middle name. Clearly there was an embarrassing tale here to be had. She put down her glass and leaned her elbows on the counter.

"It is short for something," she said. "Come on, tell."

"Nuh-uh," said Kit, shaking her head.

"Oh, come on," Willow wheedled. "I mean, I'm Willow Rosenberg. I used to have a cat named Miss Kitty Fantastico. My best friend's name is Buffy! How bad can it be?"

Kit eyed her appraisingly for a moment.

"You're not gonna leave it alone, are you?" she guessed glumly.

"Nope," Willow told her cheerfully. "You may as well just tell me now and get it over with."

Kit sighed. "Alright, fine," she said. "But then you have to tell me some of those weird stuff stories, okay?"

"Deal," Willow agreed. Suddenly, her evening looked much more interesting.

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

Patrolling the town had been a good idea, Buffy decided as she dusted her second vamp of the evening. Well, okay, so neither of them had actually known who she was or been able to provide much in the way of a challenge — really, they just didn't make 'em like the Hellmouth used to — but at least she'd had something to do.

"Maybe I should put up fliers or something," she said aloud to the empty air. "Let them know I'm here, give them a chance to try a bit harder or something."

She shrugged and turned down a promisingly dark alley.

"I mean, I never thought I wish for tougher vampires, but this is just getting sad. And we've been here for a while now; you'd think word would get out. Especially after we shut down the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. Kinda thought that that would be big news —"

She broke off abruptly as a male voice rumbled out from behind her.

"Out for a walk, Goldilocks?"

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

"No way! You brought her back? But she was dead, right? Like, dead dead."

"I know," said Willow, putting up her hands. She wasn't quite sure when she and Kit had migrated from the bar to this little table in the corner here, or when she had reached her fourth drink, but she was enjoying herself. Kit was a good audience, and her stories were pretty good too. And it was nice to talk to someone who didn't start looking at you like you were all cuckoo for coco puffs about five words in.

"I know. I don't know how I did it; it was way scary and powerful. Bigger than anything I'd ever done up to that point. Way bigger. And there were tests and, and snakes and everything. And then this demon motorcycle gang interrupted and it was just a huge mess."

"Damn," said Kit, munching on a fry — or chip, if you were speaking British, which Kit seemed to do on and off. "I mean — damn! I mean, I'm impressed and all, but it sounds like you got incredibly lucky. Necromancy, of any kind, is really, really dangerous. Even I've never — I mean, yeah, okay, I brought someone back once, but it was more like resuscitation. Or, well, not, really, I guess, since they were beaten to a bloody pulp and all, not suffocated or drowned, but same principle. All I had to do was hold on to the soul and fix the body enough to put it back, y'know? I never did it with someone who was, like, _all _dead."

"Yeah, well, I think that's probably where I started goin' off the deep end," Willow admitted, taking a couple of fries for herself. "I got addicted to the magic for a while. It was bad. I, um, sort of almost destroyed the world."

"Oh, well, that one I have done," said Kit, her expression sheepish.

"Really?"

"Yeah. The destroying the world part, not the addicted part, I mean. And, er, it wasn't 'almost' either."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Kit chewed her lip some, then burst out, "It wasn't like I did it on purpose! It was a total accident! I was trying to help, only I messed up — didn't account for some of the side effects, y'know? I mean, I had to get the elements from somewhere! I didn't know the damned sun was gonna go all supernova on me."

"Wait, you blew up a sun?" Willow gawped.

"Yeah," said Kit gloomily. "Not in this world, obviously. And it wasn't like there were any people living on the planet that orbited it or anything, but still. . . I kinda scared myself that day."

"Yeah," Willow agreed, wondering if maybe Kit was talking about a computer game or something and was just too drunk to keep it all straight. She didn't seem particularly drunk though.

"Well," she said bracingly, "at least you didn't mean to. I did, at the time."

"Yeah, I guess," Kit shrugged. "Anyway, tell me more about this friend of yours. What happened after you brought her back?"

Willow winced.

"She was pretty messed up for a while," she admitted. "It was sorta my fault since it turned out she'd been in heaven or something like it."

"Ouch," said Kit sympathetically.

"Yeah. I mean, she got better and it turned out we really did need to have her back in the end, but I still felt pretty lousy about it. Or feel, actually. Sometimes, anyway. When I think about it."

"You didn't know."

"Shouldn't I have, though?" Willow wanted to know. It was the question that had always haunted her. "I mean, she died to save us, to save her sister, us, the world, and all. Shouldn't I have guessed she wouldn't end up in a hell dimension?"

"Does it matter?" asked Kit. "I mean, if the ritual was interrupted then it probably shouldn't have worked at all. That it did suggests to me at least that maybe it was one of those things, y'know? Just had to happen. Sometimes the universe speaks, but then sometimes it just can't sit around waiting for us to cotton on, I think."

Willow frowned thoughtfully. She'd never considered that before. She wasn't sure that it made it alright, but it _was_ something to think about.

"Maybe," she said.

Kit shrugged. "Good intentions, anyway. Gotta count for something, elsewise what's the point?"

"Mnn." Willow drained the rest of her drink. Kit stirred her own, each taking a moment to contemplate the general universe.

"So," said Kit after a while, "you said she got better, but now you're worried about her again. What happened?"

Willow sighed. She glanced up to the front of the pub; Dawn and Vi were dancing with some blokes, Xander and some of the others were playing darts. It was quite impressive that Xander could hit the board at all with just one eye. None of them seemed to have noticed Willow's absence. She turned back to Kit.

"It's sort of a long story," she said.

Kit leaned back in her seat. "Got nothing better to do," she said contentedly. "Come on, tell me your troubles. It can't possibly hurt."

Willow shrugged and signaled a waitress for more drinks.

"Okay," she said. "So, see, there was this thing. . . ."

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

Buffy whipped around, her aforementioned golden locks flying out around her head. A figure, tall and broad-shouldered, stood in the mouth of the alleyway, silhouetted by the soft glow of the streetlamps. A long coat hung down past his knees. Buffy squinted against the gloom, right hand clenching her stake, her heart in her throat.

"Who—?"

"Mmm-mm-mmm," said the figure, making his way towards her. "Walking the streets this late at night, and looking so delicious. It's almost like you're looking for trouble, in'it, luv?"

Buffy's hands shook.

"S-Spi—" She stopped, catching sight of his face for the first time. The yellow eyes and bumpy forehead were set beneath a mop of scraggly black hair. It wasn't him.

The vampire paused, taking her in. His gaze caught on the stake in her hand. He sniffed.

"Slayer!" he growled, a gleeful grin spreading across his face.

Somewhere in the back of Buffy's mind, it occurred to her that this was the exact same thing she had heard from vamps for years back in Sunnydale. You'd think that, once you'd switched countries, you'd at least get a different unoriginal line. It was the sort of thing that she normally would have pointed out, but not now. She was too angry. Too bloody furious. How dare he? How dare the world?

Buffy lunged, acting without thinking, wanting nothing so much as to beat and kill the thing before her. He ducked and circled around behind her, she spun and delivered a solid roundhouse kick to his face. He stumbled back. She leapt after him and punched him hard in the stomach, then brought her knee up to meet his nose.

How dare it? How _dare_ the universe dangle the possibility before her like that and then snatch it away?

She dodged away from the vamp's flailing blows and tore a piece of metal barring from off a basement window. She heard him move behind her and twirled, bringing the bar up and around. He lunged for her and she brought it down hard where his neck met his shoulder. The vampire roared and fell to one knee. Buffy brought the bar up for another swing and hit his torso this time, hearing the crack as his ribs broke beneath the blow. He half fell, half rolled sideways, trying to get away from her. Buffy waited til he was almost on his feet again before once more bringing the metal bar to bear, walloping him first across the belly, then in the backs of his legs. The vampire tumbled to the ground.

"You — have — no — originality!" she shouted, punctuating each word with a clout from the bar. "You — can't — even — fight like— a real vampire! How — dare you — call me — How dare you—!"

She stopped. The vampire lay broken at her feet, his face and hands a bloody mess. Buffy stared down at him, at what she'd done. She threw the bar away. Then she knelt down beside him. A single yellow eye peered up at her, terrified, almost pleading. Buffy surveyed him for a moment, then her lip curled.

"You're nothing," she told him coldly. "You can't even dance."

As his expression melted from fear to confusion she plunged her stake through his chest and he disintegrated. For a moment, she didn't move, just stayed there, frozen, watching the dust settle and then blow away. Then she stood. Turned. Patrolled.

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

Willow yawned, she was sleepy. She had managed to explain mostly about The First and about the Hellmouth and the almost apocalypse, though she had glossed over some of the more personal parts — like how they had all thrown Buffy out for a while, she hadn't mentioned that part. And she'd skip a lot of the more complicated group dynamic stuff; it just would have taken too long.

"It's so weird, y'know?" she said. "I mean, at first it was like she was okay. Totally fine. Giving orders and making speeches. Smiling. But now . . . now it's like every day she's a little bit further away."

Kit sighed, he expression suddenly distant and rather sad.

"Y'know, it probably just took a while to sink in," she said. "I mean, it sounds like you all paid a pretty hefty price for this. And like it wasn't the first time, either. Stuff like that — it can hit you slow."

"Or maybe, maybe it's just stress," said Willow hopefully. "I mean, there's so many Slayers out there now. Buffy's shouldering a lot of responsibility these days. Maybe she's just too busy and tired."

"Too busy and tired even to smile?" Kit shook her head. Willow pouted.

"Come on," she said, "I mean, it could be, right? It could. Maybe?"

"Maybe," Kit allowed. "Part of it."

"But?" Willow prompted glumly.

"But," said Kit quietly, "even if that is part of it —" She shook her head. "Look, I can tell there's stuff you're not telling me. It's okay, I get it, but I know the sound of skimmed over hardships. I know how people talk when they talk about a war."

"Oh. No. no, it wasn't—" Willow began, though, really, the girl had a point.

"Don't kid yourself, Wicca," said Kit sadly, her voice suddenly lilting into a strange, old-sounding accent. "Mayhap 'tweren't no kind of war as most would see it but it was war nonetheless. There's always casualties in a war. An' i's one thing t' sit here an' jus' say it, but seein' it? Livin' through it?"

She sighed, then shrugged.

"You lose enough people, or enough times and y' start to realize that sometimes there's jus' nothin' you can do. An' then, then y' start thinking that maybe, maybe it's better not to get close. To anyone. Because y' might lose 'em. An' you don' want t' hurt like that again."

"Oh," said Willow. And she thought about herself, and what she'd lost. About Oz, and then Tara, and then Tara again, for good. And she did love Kennedy, but it wasn't the same. She held back, with Kennedy. Not a lot, but some. With Oz and with Tara she hadn't withheld anything; she'd given all of herself. Which was perhaps why, when she'd lost Tara, she'd also lost nearly all of herself.

Safer, then, to hold back some. To keep some small piece of yourself closed off and untouched. So that the next time someone left or died, you didn't die with them.

"Oh," she said again, more softly this time. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that."

She sighed. Kit stirred her drink.

"It gets better though, right?" said Willow after a moment. "At least, a little. Doesn't it?" Buffy was way more closed off and distant than she was, after all.

"It takes time," said the girl.

"That's what everyone says," Willow groused, remembering when she and Oz had first broken up. "It'll take time and there's nothing we can do."

"Yeah, that part's pretty frustrating," said Kit. "Kinda just . . . full of suck, really. But it does get better."

"Yeah, eventually," said Willow.

"Eventually," agreed Kit.

They sat in silence for a while, then Kit sighed.

"I think your group is looking for you," she said.

"Oh. Ready to leave, are they?" asked Willow, blinking and looking around.

"Sure looks like," said Kit.

"Yep, sure does," said Willow. She sighed, then started to get up. "Well, it was nice to meet you. And to talk. Thanks for listening and everything."

"Not a problem," said Kit, standing up and smiling. "I had fun."

"Yeah, me too."

"Tell you what," said Kit suddenly, "Why don't you bring Buffy next time. I'd love to meet her. Maybe I can help or something."

"I don't know," said Willow, thinking of how Buffy was these days. "Buffy's not really much with the fun-having lately."

"Aw, c'mon, Red. You're her best friend, right? Bet you could do it if you tried."

Willow looked up sharply. Red?

"Something wrong?" asked Kit, frowning.

"What? I — no," said Willow, shaking her head. "No, it's just, no one's called me that since — I mean, only one person ever did, is all."

"Oh," said Kit, stifling a yawn. "Sorry. Just made sense what with your hair and all, I guess. Anyway, I can't make it for a couple of days, but I'll be here on Thursday if you want someone to talk to. And do try to bring your friend. Even if I can't help, I'd love to meet her. And who knows, Wicca, I could be useful in all sorts of ways."

And then, with a quick smile and a wink, she was gone. Willow stared at the spot where she had vanished into the crowd, trying to work out if the other girl had been flirting with her, or just trying to drop a subtle hint that she was interested in joining the Scoobies in some capacity.

Either way, she'd try to be here. And she would try to bring Buffy along. It would do her friend good to get out in a non-patrolly, fun sort of way for a change. And who knew, she thought as she let Xander and Dawn collect her on their way out, maybe it would help. Kit was easy to talk to; maybe all Buffy needed was someone to get the ball rolling.

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

There had been no more vamps on Buffy's patrol. No more distractions. So she had headed home. Or, back to base, anyway. Nowhere had really felt like home since she'd left Sunnydale. As she passed by an old cemetery, she had decided that she just didn't want to be 'home' yet. So she had jumped the fence and climbed the nearest crypt and lain down on the cold, stone roof, just staring up at the sky. At the stars. The stars that shone so much brighter here than they ever had back home.

It wasn't fair. It just was not fair! She'd gotten used to the dreams. It didn't make them any less like torture, but she was used to them. She could deal with them, but this. . .

It wasn't fair. She couldn't escape the dreams — the nightmares — but how dare the waking world now take away what little control she had, sending her such a reminder of the one person she had counted on above all else? The one person who had done everything, given everything, for her?

The one person she had thought she would never have to live without.

But the world had taken him away from her.

He was never coming back.

* * *

><p>AN: okay, let me know what you think. anyone want me to continue? also, i have no beta. i've tried to edit as well as possible, but if i missed anything major (or even minor) feel free to let me know. i hate it when i miss things


	3. Problems

disclaimer: Joss Whedon made the park, i'm just playing in it.

* * *

><p><strong>Every Moment<strong>

* * *

><p>Problems<p>

* * *

><p>Time, Buffy had decided, was a strange creature. It never seemed to move normally anymore. Granted, she wasn't all that positive it had ever been exactly what one would call consistent, but this was different. Before time had either moved too fast or too slow, now it seemed to be both at once. And it skipped sometimes too. Buffy felt as though she were missing more and more of what went on around her. Probably this should have worried her; instead she only found it slightly annoying, and even then only because it kept causing awkward moments like this.<p>

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, blinking at Kennedy who was wearing the tell-tale face of impatient expectancy that Buffy had come to associate with these little space-outs of hers.

"I said, what do you think?" Kennedy repeated.

"About what?"

"Were you listening at all?" demanded Kennedy irritably. "I've been talking for, like, fifteen minutes here."

"Sorry," said Buffy, wincing slightly and fiddling with her toast. "I was thinking."

"And I was talking. Apparently to myself."

"Hey, I said I was sorry. You gonna get to the point or just complain some more?"

She felt a bit bad for snapping — she had apparently ignored the other girl for some time — but Kennedy got on her nerves. She was a good fighter, a good Slayer even, but Buffy still couldn't quite figure what Willow saw in the girl. There again, this was now a world where Faith, who was back in Chicago with Robin, had now been with the same guy for more than just one night so maybe she should just give up trying to make sense of such things.

Kennedy sighed and rolled her eyes. "I said, we didn't see much on our sweep last night. This place is really slow, it's like even the people here don't cause any trouble."

"I've noticed," said Buffy. That, at least, was a sentiment to which she could relate. "I found a couple of vamps in town, but they were pathetic. Two of them didn't even know who I was. It was sad."

"Maybe we should move again," Kennedy suggested offhandedly. "Find another hellmouth or something."

"I'm not sure we can afford to move again yet," Buffy groaned. Finances were not her strong suite. "Did Giles remember to ask you about that, by the way? We were hoping that —"

"That maybe I'd know someone who could help us out? Yeah, he asked." Kennedy shrugged. "My family might know someone. They're on vacation til the end of the week though, so I can't call them til next Monday."

Privately Buffy wondered what the hell kind of vacation required radio silence even from family members. Out loud she said, "Fine, great. Who's training with the potentials today?"

"That's what I was trying to ask you," said Kennedy. "I though you were, but then you were all totally out of it and I wondered if maybe I should do it instead."

Buffy pursed her lips. She disliked the idea of giving over her responsibilities like that, especially to someone who was always so eager to take up the slack. But, she was distracted, and these days there were so many potentials it was difficult for any one person to manage by themselves anyway.

"Why don't we try breaking it up some?" she suggested. "I'll work with the newest arrivals. You take the ones we picked up between Chicago and New York. Vi and Rona can help Giles put the rest through their paces for the morning. Xander and Andrew can take over in the afternoon. We need to do laundry," she added with a grimace. It was getting really difficult to manage the everyday household stuff these days, partly because they had next to no money, but also just because they had so many more people to manage now.

"Fine," said Kennedy. She looked slightly startled by Buffy's sudden switch to commander mode. Or maybe it was just the out of the blue mention of laundry. "What about tonight? I could take out a group…"

Buffy shook her head. "Let Vi and Rona do it. You, me, Willow, Xander, and Andrew are going to do an expanded sweep of the area."

"Again?" Kennedy asked. "There's nothing here. There hasn't been anything here all month."

"Yeah, well, call me paranoid," said Buffy shrugging. "We're doing it anyway." She'd been the Slayer long enough to know that whenever things were quiet tended to be when you had to be the most on your guard. Finishing the last of her breakfast, Buffy stood, put her dishes into the already overflowing sink — they so needed to fix that dishwasher — and headed for the door.

"Come on. Let's go rouse the troops."

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

Staffs clashed, people grunted, the afternoon sun beat down mercilessly making the trainees sweaty and grumpy. Xander Harris walked the line, calling out the strikes and blocks, pausing here and there to correct a trainee's stance or grip or movement. Despite the heat and the frequent complaints from the girls, Xander had found that he actually rather enjoyed working with the trainee Slayers like this. It was something he could do, something he was good at.

The memories from the Halloween costume fiasco had faded some, but the concepts were still there. The more he used them the fresher they stayed and nothing stuck with a soldier like drill training. Of course, the army didn't use staffs, but the principle remained the same no matter what weapon you were using. In a real fight, you didn't have time to really think about what you had to do. You needed it to be automatic, to feel as natural as breathing. So you practiced it. You repeated the moves you needed to know over and over and over, until you could do them in your sleep.

"Why do we still have to do these?" groaned Celia as Xander passed by. She was one of the girls who'd been with them in Sunnydale. Xander had always found it interesting how the ones who complained the most seemed to always be either the newest girls who didn't get it, or the most experienced ones who were confident enough to think they didn't need it anymore. You'd think they'd learn. But maybe they needed to be caught off guard a few times before they realized how important even the most basic things could be.

"Because it gives the newer girls some variety in practice partners," he said, gesturing to Celia's partner, a young, eager-eyed little thing named Kaylie. Kaylie grinned up at him. Xander grinned back, he liked Kaylie; she was tiny and only thirteen years old but she was always the first of the new girls to volunteer to try something new.

"Besides," Xander continued, looking mischievously back at Celia, "this is good for you old-timers. Character building, keeps you on your toesies."

Kaylie giggled behind her staff. Celia rolled her eyes but quit looking so annoyed with the drill. Xander smiled and kept walking down the line. As he neared the end he found Andrew, trading strikes and blocks with Nikki and wincing with every blow.

"For someone who keeps saying he used to be evil you sure are a pushover," Nikki said, her dark eyes twinkling.

"I _was _evil," Andrew insisted, wincing again and backing up a step as she struck at him. "I made evil plans and cast evil spells and stuff and . . . Xander, why do I have to learn this?"

"Hey, you wanted to be useful, remember?"

That Andrew actually was capable of being useful had been a surprise to everyone. And that Xander had been the one to see his potential had surprised them even more. Xander himself still had trouble believing it sometimes. But the boy was useful; he could read several demon languages and was learning a few other human ones from Giles and Dawn, and his research was thorough. He still wasn't much of a fighter but after the battle at Sunnydale he had hinted that he wanted to learn, and Xander had needed a project after Anya. Unfortunately, that now meant he was basically permanently saddled with Andrew.

"But I'm no good at fighting," Andrew whined. "I'm really better off working in a research-y, household-y capacity."

"Andrew," Xander said as patiently as he could, "even Giles knows how to fight, and he's a retired librarian. You can at least learn the basics. Now, come on. You've wiggled completely out of line. Get back in it and stop giving ground. Nikki, make that high strike a little higher. Good."

As he turned to go back down the line of trainees his eye caught on the figure waving at them from the porch of the old farmhouse they using as HQ.

"What's the word, Dawnie?" he called.

"Giles sent some of the others to the grocer's," she hollered back. "They should be back in half and hour with ice cream and lemonade for everyone!"

"Awesome-sauce!" Xander shouted happily. Then he groaned. "A hundred teenage girls with super-strength all fighting over and then hopped up on ice cream. God Almighty, what did I ever do to deserve this?"

_o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

"Buffy, would you concentrate, please? We need to figure this out!"

"And I told you, I'm no good at this kind of thing," Buffy shot right back, ducking and spinning as they sparred. "Honestly, Giles, just talk to Kennedy or — or wait until she talks to her family or whatever. I've got enough in my plate already."

"Buffy —" Giles began impatiently.

"What if we turned this place back into a farm?" suggested Willow suddenly. It was an idea she'd been toying with for a while now and she hated to see Buffy and Giles fight all the time.

"What? Ouch!" said Giles, straightening to look blankly at her and earning himself a clout from Buffy's foot.

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed, seeming half startled, half annoyed by her former Watcher's lapse in attention. "You're supposed to duck."

"Yes, clearly," said Giles rubbing his shoulder. "Um, Willow, what did you mean by that?"

"Well," said Willow, "I just thought, you know, since we're here on this old farm, maybe we could, you know, use it. You know, like, plant corn or something? I mean, we have plenty of people to help and all."

"Hmm, interesting idea," Giles mused. "Of course, in order to by seed we need money, but still, interesting idea…"

"Well, we've got some money saved up, right?" said Willow. "Maybe it could work. I don't know. It was just an idea. Buffy, you should come out with us some time this week. Me and Xander and Dawnie were going to that pub in town this Thursday. Why don't you join us?"

"I don't know, Wil," said Buffy, putting away the training equipment and leading the way up the stairs to the kitchen. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"I think it's a good idea," said Giles. "You've been spending a lot of time here or out on patrol. You should spend some time with your friends as well."

Buffy turned to stare at him. "Seriously? This from the man who barely even knows the meaning of the word 'vacation?'"

Giles put his hands up in surrender, mumbled something apologetic sounding, and left the room. Willow winced at the chilliness of her friend's tone. Sometimes she wondered if things would ever be right between Buffy and Giles again.

"Oh, come on, Buffy, it'll be fun. You remember fun, right?"

Buffy shot her a look, then pulled out a box of cereal. Willow sighed; she wasn't really sure why she was pushing this so hard, and Kit had said she'd be there either way, but it felt important for some reason. She didn't know why she thought the girl might be able to help, but as her magical abilities continued to grow and change Willow was learning that it was often wise to listen to her intuition. At least, that's what she told herself.

"Come on, please?"

""I have to patrol, Wil," said Buffy, not meeting her eyes. "You know that."

"No I don't," Willow protested. "There are at least fifty other capable Slayers here plus all the newbies and you've said yourself it's a slow town as far as dark, demony stuff goes. Let Vi and Rona take the girls out for a change. You deserve a break."

"Maybe," Buffy allowed, "but I'm starting to see a pattern with my break-taking. You know, the kind where I take a break, it seems fine and then all of a sudden it's raining disasters."

"But then this will be fine then," said Willow triumphantly, deciding to play her last card. "Because technically you won't be off duty. Not really. There's someone you should meet. She said she'd be there Thursday night and —"

"Wil, what are you talking about?"

"Kit. She's a wi— a magic-user. I met her last time we went out," Willow explained. "We got to talking and I told her some about you and us and what we do and she wants to meet you. I think maybe she's interesting in helping, y'know?"

"You told a random stranger in a pub that you're a witch?" said Buffy, raising her eyebrows disapprovingly.

"What? No. No, I didn't tell her anything," said Willow quickly. "She started it — I mean, she knew, she could tell what I am. She told me she was into the magics too, showed me, even. I mean, she didn't _do _anything, but—"

"And now she wants to meet me," said Buffy, frowning thoughtfully into thin air.

"Well, you are the Slayer."

"Alright," said Buffy suddenly. "Alright, I'll come. I won't stay the whole night; I still want to patrol, just in case, but I'll come and meet this new witch in town. And we're still doing the extended sweep tonight."

"Okay, fine. Great!" said Willow, grinning at her friend. "Oh, and, Buffy?"

"Yeah, Wil?"

"Maybe — maybe you could have _some _fun before you leave? I mean, I know you're all Responsibility Girl now and all, but, I think at least for five minutes the world could, you know, deal?"

Buffy sighed and turned to look out at the pale evening sky.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, maybe."

* * *

><p>AN: so, there seems to be some interest here so i'm going to keep going with this. please keep giving me feedback here. i love comments, thoughts, constructive criticism, etc. let me know if i'm still holding your interest, if i'm keeping the characters in character (or mostly, anyway. i'm not a miracle worker here...), if i miss some grammar or spelling mistake. also, i tend to go off on tangents. i promise i'm going to try really hard not to get too distracted with this, but i am notoriously ADD so if i seem to be getting way off please let me know. otherwise, read and enjoy ^_^

~SilverKit


	4. Migration

disclaimer: Joss Whedon made the park, i'm just playing in it.

* * *

><p><strong>Every Moment<strong>

* * *

><p>Migration<p>

* * *

><p>It was dark. It was night, of course, but it was always dark as night down where the beast dwelled. Not that it needed the light to find its way around; it was practically blind anyway. Its finely tuned sense of smell, remarkable hearing, and the strange, whisker-like appendages that adorned its face and chin were all it needed to navigate its world.<p>

When its hunting grounds had begun to dry up, it had began to move again. It had been a long time since it had had to do so, but the process was simple. The hunger was not.

It had been far too long since the creature's last meal. Swimming took less effort than walking, but it had come far. The hunger burned, pressing at the creature's throat, demanding attention. Demanding sustenance.

Slowly, cautiously, the creature raised its great head out of the water. Hearing nothing, it raised it a bit more, listened closely. Surely there would be prey somewhere.

It heard nothing. Then the wind changed. The scent was faint, but it was there. Warm, soft, and delicious. The creature lowered its head. Somewhere ahead, there was hunting to be had.

In the dark, in the night, the creature put its head down, and swam.


End file.
